


Touch

by Sevi (KelSevi)



Category: Shin Megami Tensei II
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9409187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelSevi/pseuds/Sevi
Summary: His touch was all Aleph needed.It was a very sensual feeling, to be touched. To be held in someone else’s arms, and to hold them back in his own. To feel their skin, bare and uncovered, and to truly understand the other person through touch alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This follows the Chaos Ending in SMTII.

His touch was all Aleph needed.

It was a very sensual feeling, to be touched. To be held in someone else’s arms, and to hold them back in his own. To feel their skin, bare and uncovered, and to truly understand the other person through touch alone.

There were _feelings_ not even a thousand words could describe evoked within him at the bar, every time Louis’s soft but wholly rigid hands brushed his own calloused ones. _Feelings_ of want and need piled up in the deepest corners of his heart, and when they overflowed they filled the rest of his chest, too. And from his chest those _feelings_ would spread across his cheeks; his ears; braise and burn across his fingertips and feet until every part of him tingled uncomfortably with _feeling._

Perhaps it was obvious the way he felt - every time he flushed red and flicked his face away from the other man whenever they so much as grazed each other - because after the third time that night there was a more deliberate touch on his left forearm; a grapple, a squeeze, a tug on exposed skin.

“Aleph,” his voice began, smooth as silk and untainted by intoxication, “are you alright? You seem distracted.”

His first thought was to respond with a cheeky, “Yeah, of course!” and a shot of sake, but the prior seven shots he downed earlier weighed heavily on his mind. Still, he couldn’t just ignore Louis, so his eyes trailed the length of the polished wood that made up the counter and met his hands, clawed with sharp black nails, clinging to him.

Of course he was embarrassed, and that was no surprise to anyone who knew anything about him; for the so-called Messiah was as transparent as glass, despite his best efforts to mask his intentions. And, for whatever reason, he was averse to touch. Not many picked up on the small shudders and jolts procured from accidental touch, or the cautious rubbing away he did afterward. To those who did, they simply assumed it was some sort of complex, or an endearing quirk about their endearingly imperfect Savior.

Louis was one of those people, and from Aleph’s enduring silence he could guess that maybe something was the matter. His face softening just so, he slid his hand from Aleph’s arm to his fingers, and he tapped them lightly. Then, he reached out with his other hand and tapped the table (louder, loud enough to produce the dulled thud of flesh on thick wood) to call the bartender’s attention.

“Put it on my tab, will you? I’ll be heading out now. Goodnight, Seward.”

The bartender gurgled a hearty goodnight to a ‘Mr. Cypher,’ the way most demons who weren’t used to speaking much did, and Louis rose from his seat to leave. But, he did not dare walk until his hand found itself on Aleph’s shoulder, and a shiver raced from the Messiah’s arms down to his feet.

Quickly, Aleph too found himself following Louis out, his right hand rubbing his left arm where Louis had touched him. (He heard Seward mumble a hearty goodnight to a ‘Mr. Messiah’ as well.)

…

The night was young outside the walls of the bar with a half-moon hanging low in the sky, and fresh yellow light poured from the windows as the two men stepped outside. Aleph could distinctly feel the warm atmosphere pull away from his body as the cool air of Makai replaced it, and the odd lemon-and-liquor odor had already begun to fade as well.

Louis had only taken several steps to the left of the bar before he stopped himself and turned on his heel to face the slightly less-capable, tipsy man.

“I take it you’ve something on your mind.”

Blinking once, and then twice more, Aleph met the heterochromic eyes of the other. It wasn’t all that often Louis would drag him out and away from a situation to have a one-on-one talk. Usually, the man left him to his own devices and allowed him to ask for things on his own time, but this time it was a little… different.

Whether it was the liquid courage talking or himself, he nodded and let his eyes wander slightly past Louis’s head. “...Nothing wrong, per say, but… Has anyone ever told you how nice your hands are?”

Of all the responses Louis was expecting, that one simply was not on the list. Taken slightly aback, he opened his mouth to retort, and then let it fall shut. “...”

“No, really. They are. Like, here, see…” As though to demonstrate his point, Aleph approached Louis and held his hands out. Bemused, he allowed it to happen, and he offered Aleph a hand of his own to pick apart.

And pick apart he did! He held Louis’s hand gingerly - quite gingerly, as though he were cradling a newborn kitten - and he ran his thumbs over the back of his hand. “The skin here… it’s very soft. It’s like you’ve never worked a day in your life… And your palm! It’s nothing like mine at all. My hands are rough from wear and tear and use, and…”

As though he’d suddenly said something important, he looked up from hand to Louis, and he grinned nervously. “...I hope I’m not bothering you with this. With my… my rough hands. I just… haha…”

Louis peered back down at Aleph, puzzled. “Of course not. You’re only human, after all.” His fingers curled slightly around Aleph’s hand, and he smirked, the way he always did when he spoke about choices and free will. “If it is my hands that interest you, they are free to use to your liking.”

Aleph’s grin lessened, little by little, at Louis’s response, but in its place grew an awed expression. “...Are you sure? I mean, there’s such a stark difference between them… Doesn’t it feel weird to you?”

“Not especially. I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you, but I’ve touched far worse in my time.”

He fell quiet, and so too did his eyes fall to the other man’s hands. Compared to his own, they seemed so perfect, like a polished opal beside a fresh volcanic rock. If they rubbed together, he feared he might scratch it and ruin the perfection he cradled dearly in his hands. And yet...

“Um... Louis?”

“Yes, Aleph? Is there something else?”

“Could you lead me back home? I’ve had a lot to drink, I don’t want to risk getting sick or running into any demons…”

Louis nodded, like he expected Aleph to ask. “Of course. I had no intention of letting you leave alone in the first place.” He started to withdraw his hand from the other man, but…

It wouldn’t budge. Aleph had a tight grip on his hand. “... Aleph?”

“Ah, um… I guess this is kind of a weird request, too, but-- Can we hold hands, too? J-just so I don’t stumble, or anything, haha…”

So, that was the game he wanted to play. A spark of playful intrigue twinkled in Louis’s red eye, and his smirk only grew with delight. “I’ve already told you my answer. My hands are yours, if you’d like them.” Aleph’s face lit up and glowed with a mixture of embarrassment, giddy excitement, and a feeble attempt to mute either expression; if Louis had any less self-restraint, he’d call the man cute on the spot.

Aleph tilted his head downward, focusing on holding Louis’s hand with his own, and when he squeezed his hand they walked back to Kether Castle together.

…

The walk wasn’t especially far; it was at most 30 minutes by foot, by Louis’s estimates, but Aleph always loved taking the scenic route. And thank goodness for that - he yawned at least seven times during their walk (after that he stopped counting).

They were mostly silent, but not out of awkwardness. Even though Louis knew they wouldn’t be attacked by any demons so long as he was there, he remained vigilant all the same. He was careful to step over any ajar cracks in the road and kick aside stray pebbles on the path for Aleph, in case he suddenly felt inclined to trip on them.

On the other hand, Aleph’s gaze was transfixed on the link the two of them had made: their hands, held tightly enough together that even if one let go, the other would pick up the slack.

He never realized how warm Louis’s hand was. He supposed he should have realized it sooner, seeing how this man had so much light within him, but he wasn’t expecting to get a constant physical reminder like this. Though, he supposed, he was, in fact, Lucifer; it was to be expected. In contrast, Aleph’s lone, free hand was starting to get cold, and he lazily pulled it inward and stuffed it under his armpit.

… He yawned again, and though they were still quite a ways from the castle, Louis stopped in his tracks and peeked behind his shoulder at the sleepy Messiah. “I could carry you the rest of the way, if you’d like.”

That woke him up quick, and if not that then the fact that he walked right into Louis certainly did. Stepping quickly away (but not too far; he still wanted to keep a tight grip on his hand) he sheepishly grinned. “No, I’m okay. Just a little tired from the alcohol.”

“Hm. If you’re sure.”

They did not continue walking. Aleph stared at Louis, prepared to get a move on, but still they did not. “... Louis?”

He turned away, and for a moment he stood in contemplative silence. It was impossible to fathom just what was going on in that pretty head of his; the man was an enigma, and Aleph had long since stopped questioning his thoughts.

“Aleph, come up next to me,” he said, as he slowly slipped his hand out of Aleph’s grasp. The tipsy man still held on, but after both their hands were raised close to his face, he gave in and let Louis go. Like a pouting child, he stepped up and beside Louis, so they stood adjacent to one another,

and inhaled sharply and with surprise when Louis wrapped that very arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. Close enough that he could smell the strong scent of a fruity cologne, tainted with the lemony odor of the bar.

“My apologies for not asking first. But I think you may enjoy this a little more, ‘Messiah,’ “ Louis teased. Aleph could get a good look at him now, and as he stared up at it, eyes wide, there was a mischievous, catty grin adorning his face. It only seemed to grow when he realized the _feelings_ from earlier were prickling his face, which was previously numb from the booze. He glanced away, nervousness dancing in his heart.

They began walking again, but they had taken only a few steps before Aleph stubbornly raised both his hands and took Louis’s hand - the one slung around him - into his own. Now it was Louis’s turn to act surprised, though Aleph couldn’t see it. And maybe that was for the best, since they did not stop again until they reached the castle.

At least now he could say he held hands with Lucifer.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this weeks ago and straight up forgot about it, go me. Anyway, enjoy some more of That Gay Shit.


End file.
